


But First, Dessert

by omegaling



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ben Solo in glasses, Ben shows her how loved she is, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Modern AU, Non-explicit oral sex, Poor Rey is insecure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 11:01:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18871873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omegaling/pseuds/omegaling
Summary: Rey is not a good cook.  Ben doesn't care and is determined to prove it to her.





	But First, Dessert

**But First, Dessert**

 

Rey stood over the smoking remnants of their dinner, fighting back tears.  She had been able to hold herself together when she cut her finger while slicing mushrooms, and when she was splattered with smoking hot oil from the pan, and when she realized she forgot to take the puff pastry out of the freezer to defrost.  She  _ did _ nearly scream when she realized that she forgot to spray the cake pans with cooking spray, but was able to contain it at the last second out of fear that their neighbors would hear her.  They never actually spoke to her, but she had seen how they looked at her and Ben whenever they went out together, and she knew they were wondering how he could possibly be with someone like her when their own college-educated, career-driven daughter was still very much single.  

_ She’s probably a good cook, too _ , Rey thought bitterly, scrubbing her hand across her eyes and trying to convince herself that it was only the smoke making them burn.   _ They probably already have an idea of what’s going on.  The whole block probably heard the fucking smoke detectors going off.   _ It was only after Rey was able to deactivate all the detectors (she was sure only one of them was broken beyond repair) and clear the front of their small townhouse of smoke she was able to access the damage of what remained of her beef wellington.

“Damage” was putting it lightly: post-dinner-apocalypse was by far a more accurate description.  The puff pastry, already torn in her haste to defrost, cracked and burned in the oven, making it look closer to charred cardboard than anything actually edible.  Beneath it, the mushroom filling (a concoction with a French name she wasn’t even going to try to pronounce) oozed between the fissures in the pastry in a soupy mess.  On the opposite end of the counter, half of her pink champagne cake lay in two pieces: half on a plate, half still stuck inside its pan. 

Worst of all was the beef filet encased in the blackened pastry.  She had seared it on the stove until it was nearly black on all sides, just as she was supposed to, but somehow the center managed to remain wholly uncooked, the meat so red and bloody it would earn an “R” rating at a movie theater.  She had saved her tips for the past two weeks to make Ben a surprise anniversary dinner, and the slab of filet mignon the recipe called for cost half of her total budget.

To top it all off, there was the actual state of the kitchen to contend with, but dealing with that was sure to send her over the edge.

Damn it, why was she so bad at this?  Not for the first time, Rey wondered if growing up in the system and under Unkar Plutt’s oppressive thumb made her unsuited for domestic life.

“Rey?”

The sound of Ben’s voice behind her made Rey’s heart leap in her chest, but not in a good way.  Determined not to let him see how upset she was, Rey took a deep breath and turned to face him.

They were three years into their relationship, and Rey still couldn’t decide if she was living a modern fairy tale or if she was the butt of some cosmic joke.  She was a nobody, abandoned by her family and used as indentured labor by her foster father until she aged out of the system. Ben Solo, on the other hand, was a damn near child prodigy: grandson of decorated military general Anakin Skywalker, son of Senator Leia Organa, nephew of Luke Skywalker, silver medal winner for fencing in the 1984 Olympic games and the youngest professor in Brown history to earn tenure.  Ben completed nationally in kendo in high school and had every major college begging him to attend their school after graduation, whereas Rey struggled to stay at a passing level and dropped out community college the first semester of her second year. Ben was on his way to completing his PhD, and she was slinging lattes in the morning and martinis at night to support her (failing) career as an artist. Though Ben never gave her any reason for her to suspect that he was being unfaithful, or that he was falling out of love with her, or that they simply weren’t working out, she still feared the day he would finally realized he could do better.  Maybe today would be that day, when he saw the ruin she made of the kitchen, and how completely inept she was at making a meal that consisted of more than four ingredients.

But there was no disgust in his face at the state of the kitchen, nor did he look upset or disappointed with her.  She saw only tenderness in his eyes behind his glasses, caring and concerned, making a lump rise in Rey’s throat she was only just able to keep from breaking the surface.

Then she saw the bouquet of colored sunflowers in his hand - one of her favorite subjects to paint - and instantly burst into tears.

Ben was at her side in an instant, folding her into his arms despite the various foodstuffs getting smeared all over his freshly-ironed button-down shirt.  Rey felt her feet being lifted from the floor, and the next thing she knew they were on the couch, her legs draped over his lap with one of his hands buried in her hair and other other rubbing her back in large, soothing circles through her shirt.  His gentle ministrations only made her cry harder, sobbing in great, ugly gasps against the crook of his neck, deepening her embarrassment and sense of pathetic uselessness. 

She felt as though she was going to cry until she was nothing but a dried-out husk, but gradually the tears began to ebb, leaving her with only enough energy to sniffle into his collar.  Eventually she wasn’t even able to do that; she only laid bonelessly against him, feeling like her head was stuffed with wet towels and her face hot and swollen from crying. Ben didn’t say a word, because even though she rarely broke down like this, he understood her well enough to know she would tell him what was wrong if and when she was ready.  It was something she was always grateful to him for, and another reason in the long list of why she didn’t deserve him.

“Sorry,” she was finally able to say, her voice an ugly croak.  “I don’t know why I got so upset. I know we said we’d wait for the weekend to do something for our anniversary, but I wanted to do  _ something _ for you tonight.  I should have known I wouldn’t be able to pull it off.  It was stupid…”

“It wasn’t stupid, and you don’t have to be sorry,” Ben said gently.  “Beef wellington isn't an easy thing to make, even for people who enjoy cooking.  Just the fact that you tried means a lot of me.”

A short, raspy laugh escaped her, making her raw throat sting.  “I’m shocked you can even tell what it is.”

Ben shifted Rey in his lap, turning her face towards him so he could kiss her forehead.  “Tell you what. Why don’t you take a shower and relax. I’ll handle dinner tonight.”

Rey shook her head weakly.  “You don’t have to do that. It’s my mess, and you just got home from work…”

“Listening to lectures and grading papers.  Hardly strenuous work.” He tilted her face to another angle, this time so he could kiss her on the mouth, slow and sweet until she sighed.  “Go on. I’ll let you know when it’s ready.”

* * *

Rey had intended to make her shower a short one so she could at least get her mess out of Ben’s way as he made them dinner, but as the hot water sluiced down her body, she felt her limbs grow heavy and her mind sluggish, her previous misgivings and self-doubt washing down the drain with the last of the shampoo.  Rey’s hands moved on their accord, putting the stopper in the drain and hitting the plunger on the bathtub faucet. Once the basin was as full as it could get without overflowing she shut the water off altogether and sank into it up to her neck, the soothing heat coaxing a groan from her. Ben came in at one point to set a bottle of cold beer on the edge of the tub but otherwise let her be to enjoy a rare moment of having nothing to do and nowhere to be.

She got out of the bath before the water got uncomfortably cool, wrapping a towel around her body but leaving her damp hair to hang freely down her back and over her shoulders.  As she stepped out of bathroom in search for fresh clothes she paused, her attention grabbed by a smell coming from the dining room. It was not a bad smell - on the contrary, it was making her mouth water like crazy - it just wasn’t one she expected.

Ben stood over their small dining table, unpacking the last small, white paper container of Chinese food from the shallow cardboard box he used to carry them in.  The shorthand writing on the top of each carton showed that all their favorites were present and accounted for: veggie egg rolls, house chow mein, salt and pepper beef, kung pao chicken.  But what Rey could not look away from was the logo printed on the side of the cartons. Its significance made the backs of her eyes sting with tears.

“Moon Garden,” she said, her voice emerging only as a whisper.  “Our first date.”

“You didn’t know how to use chopsticks,” Ben said, setting down the last carton and coming to stand before her.

“I almost called it off when you told me where we were going because I didn’t want to look like an idiot in front of you.”

“But you were so determined to get it right.  You put more effort into learning how to use them than most of my students put into their research papers.”  He reached for her hands, which were still holding her towel closed around her. She allowed him to gently pull them away, her towel falling open before dropping to the floor, leaving her completely naked in front of him.  “You were so adorable that night, with the way your nose scrunched up in concentration. I couldn’t but wonder then, what other wonderful kinds of expressions could you make? And what did I need to do to see them all?” Ben’s large hands encircled her waist to pull her flush against him. Rey could feel the evidence of his arousal against her thigh through his slacks, and she shivered in anticipation.

“I hope I didn’t disappoint.”  Rey felt the backs of her legs hit the sofa - she didn’t even realize Ben had been walking her backwards - and she slowly sank down on to it, Ben following her down to kneel before her.

“Never,” he said, his voice dropping lower with each word.  He placed a hand on either of her knees, easing her legs apart so he could slide between them.  “I love the way you catch your tongue between your teeth when you’re painting.” He dropped a kiss to her right breast, his touch immediately making her nipples tighten.  “I love watch your reactions when we watch our shows together.” He moved to her other breast, sucking the nipple into his mouth, causing Rey to gasp and arch her back at the sensation.  

“I love watching you sleep,” he continued, trailing kisses down the smooth expanse of her stomach.  “You’re always so busy and on the go, sometimes I feel like I never see you any other way. But I think my favorite expressions you make is when you’re on my cock, from the moment I slide into your sweet cunt until I have you coming undone and begging for more.”  Planting one more kiss just above her mons, he looked at up at her with so much warmth and sincerity she was almost reduced to tears again. “I think the only expression I don’t care for is when you’re upset and crying, especially when it’s caused by anything that made you feel like less of the amazing person I know you are.”

Ben never broke eye contact with her as he lifted one leg to hook over his shoulder, kissing and nipping his way down the inside of her thigh.  No matter how many times he did this for her, Rey’s heart always leapt into her throat at the first touch of his hot mouth against her core. His touch was always gentle in the beginning, kissing her swollen folds just as he would kiss her mouth, tongue trailing up her slit to the bundle of nerves nestled at the top.  He had her whimpering and mewling in no time, all coherent thoughts caught in a tailspin she had no intention of pulling out of. She tried to watch him for her long as she could stand it; there were few sights in the world as glorious as Ben eating her out, glasses pushed up on his head and looking completely blissed out look on his face.  Then - sometimes sooner, sometimes later, but rarely when she expected it - he latched his mouth on her clit, fingers plunging deep inside her, and the rest of the world became inconsequential.

Eventually Rey drifted back to herself, feeling warm and fuzzy and wholly content.  Ben was still kneeling between her legs, his head resting on her bare stomach, long fingers drawing circles over her skin with a feather-light touch.  She carded her fingers through his thick hair; Ben looked up and gave her a lazy smile.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi yourself,” she said, returning the smile.  Ben pushed himself up to kiss her, long and slow, the lingering musky taste of herself on his tongue, making her clit throb in response.

“Ready for dinner?” he asked when he finally drew back.

“What about you?” Rey’s eyes drifted to the prominent tenting in the front of his pants.

“I got to have my dessert first tonight.  I think I’ll be okay for a while.”

Ben helped Rey to her feet, her knees still weak from the force of her orgasm.  She started to walk to their bathroom to get dressed, but Ben caught her gently by her elbow before she got very far.

“I’m only going to be taking you out of anything you put on as soon as we’re done.  Might as well just wrap back up in your towel,” he said, dropping a kiss to her shoulder.

Rey giggled, his promise making her giddy.  “All right.”

Towel wrapped securely around her again, Rey returned to the dining table where dinner, the sunflowers, and her wonderful boyfriend, who loved her and whom she loved more than anyone else in the world were waiting for her, and she wondered how life could possibly get any better than this.

She got her answer in the form of a small, velvet box sitting in the middle of her plate.


End file.
